I Missed You
by MaybeOnce
Summary: Theirs was a closeness best described by their separations...
1. Chapter 1

_**This story was originally written for the 2010 CanonFest as a gift for HonourWeasley12. Special thanks to QueenBee23, my original beta for the story.**_

"Your grandson is absurdly high-maintenance." Hermione slid back into the warm bed with a little sigh.

"Ah, like father, like son." Ron rolled over to face her and snuggled against her back. "I must have worn a hole through the hall carpet when Hugo was his age."

"Oh, God, I remember.. And I was no help to you, either."

"I was more than happy to take on baby walking duty if it helped you get better. I don't think you'll ever know how scared we all were." Ron shuddered at the memory from all those years ago, the fear and worry of almost losing his wife as she gave birth to their son as fresh as though it were yesterday. Hermione leaned back into his embrace and sighed.

"I only recovered as quickly as I did because of you. And, goodness, Ron, I swear people still gush to me about how wonderful you were."

"They're only still commenting because they are so surprised by my rising to the occasion." He snorted back a laugh. "For some reason, half the people we know seem to think that I should still be slacking off and bickering with you like a thirteen year old git!"

"And I'm supposed to eternally remain a precocious aspiring prefect with an axe to grind, yes," she chuckled softly. "That's the trouble with saving the world when you're still in school, half the population will forever assume that your personality must have been set in stone in the womb."

"I know! To tell you the truth, it took me long enough to get a clue. Extending my idiocy isn't doing me any favors."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Ron...Merlin, remember what our kids were like when they were at Hogwarts? I never realized how young we really were back then until I saw them go through that age. "

"Yeah, me too, love. It was amazing how young they seemed at the same ages we thought we were so grown up. Lots of changes in those years. Makes me appreciate even more that I got to be with you all the way through."

"Most of the way through, anyway."

"Nope, _all_ the way through. Any time I wasn't with you, I was missing you. It's how I _knew_."

"Aw."

"Oi! Don't mock my sexy sensitivity, woman."

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

Ron felt it strongly in their second year. Eyes vacant, arms rigid, for months she was little more than a cold statue carved by a talented but gruesome sculptor. Then, the whole thing spun out of control; danger, grief, and horror everywhere and he was lost without a sensible girl to calm him down. He stood numbly in the Common Room, torn between the family he didn't know how to comfort and the friends whose curiosity he didn't know how to handle. His best option seemed to be yet another trip to the Hospital wing, until she suddenly came bursting in, running and smiling. Before he knew it, she was squeezing the life out of him. She was warm and soft again, her eyes dancing and full of questions and answers and pure excitement. By some miraclt, she was _Hermione_ again.

"Imissedyou." He blurted without thinking, and she squeezed him just a little bit harder.

Hermione understood the feeling in their fourth year. She stood between them, utterly confused. Ron was trying to apologize, and Harry wouldn't let him. Suddenly everything was normal again, and they were doing that _boy_ thing. Ron smiled, truly smiled with his whole face, just like he hadn't done for weeks, and all she could do was cry and hug them both. Squeezing Ron extra hard, she whispered to him what she hadn't realized until then.

"I missed you." He pretended to get caught up in her girlish tears, when he was really wondering why he had never noticed how nice it was to hug her, and when had she gotten, you know...those soft...nevermind.

Ron had trouble saying it during their sixth year, but he knew it had to be said.

"Hermione...I...I've missed you, you know." He felt like he'd been waiting for hours for everyone else to leave. He had to tell her, she had to know; she must already know, she knew everything, after all.

"Well." She pursed her lips and looked at everything in the Hospital wing that wasn't his face. "You haven't exactly been wanting for company, have you?"

Shite. She _didn't_ know. How could she?

"Yeah, well, s'funny, but that seems to be when I miss you most. "

"That doesn't seem very nice towards _her_, you know."

"I know. It's just...The whole bit with being a Quidditch hero and having the showy, adoring girlfriend; it isn't nearly as cool as it seemed like it would be."

"Those things rarely are." Her eyes met his for the first time in months. "I missed you, too. More than you know." She hugged him then, but gingerly and with long arms.

Hermione said it during their year on the run, but she didn't mean for anyone, least of all Ron, to hear.

It was a dismal night, bone chilling and drenched in an icy rain. Ron's shadow stretched across the the floor of the tent as he kept watch. He was alert and on his feet, as though he could erase the last two months through a fierceness of devotion measured by the stiffness of his spine. She watched him in silence, and lowered her eyelids when she saw him approaching her cot.

"I'll never leave you again, Hermione." He barely whispered his vow, the words only meant for himself. "Ever. I _swear_." He turned, then, and resumed pacing at the tent opening.

"I missed you," she whispered in the dark, so quietly that he couldn't hear her over the rain It wouldn't do for him to hear, not yet.

Yet, he did. And, for the first time in months, Ron Weasley smiled.

"And, I never _did_ leave you again, now, did I?"

"Never once." Hermione snuggled closer and nuzzled against his neck. "Unless, of course, you count The Exchange."


	2. Chapter 2

"And, I never _did_leave you again, now, did I?"

"Never once." Hermione snuggled closer and nuzzled against his neck. "Unless, of course, you count The Exchange."

"The Exchange?" Ron pulled back in mock offense. "Now, wait a minute. You can't call that me leaving you!"

"And, why not?" Hermione laughed, and did a very poor job of feigning offense. "You were all the way over in New Zealand!"

"All the way over in New Zealand? That's rich, Little Miss Off-to-America-for-Six-Months-with-Sexy-Activists!"

Hermione snorted. "Oh, Lord, I still get a kick out of _Witch Weekly_ calling him that. Stephan has many wonderful qualities, but a sense of irony is definitely not among them!"

"Oh, don't mock your _boyfriend _to appease my damaged ego, Hermione!" Ron said through his own laughter.

"Why would I need to appease you, sir? The attentions of a three-time Broomstick Babe winner should be enough to confirm your appeal!"

"Har, Har. My point stands: I never left you. First of all, the whole horrible six-months-with-no-contact was your idea, and second, I seem to recall that _someone_ kept promising me that it wasn't even a break, just a little pause, and nothing to worry my pretty little head about!"

"Well, I certainly didn't expect you to have a full-blown panic attack the first time I mentioned it!"

"I thought you were ditching me, Hermione! It was my worst nightmare come true!" He was silenced most pleasantly by an intense kiss.

"You know," she panted when she finally came up for air, "it was all because I thought you would ditch me someday."

"That settles it then, we were both completely mad"

"Barking." She agreed, and settled back in to her husband's embrace.

The Millennial Wizarding Exchange was announced to much fanfare that summer. Specially chosen interdisciplinary groups from throughout the English-speaking world would spend six months intensively collaborating and sharing training on a variety of topics. Harry was on the faculty of a Defense Against the Dark Arts group that would be held in London, Much to Harry's surprise and dismay, Ron was going to attend a Strategic Team Leadership program in New Zealand, and Hermione would be in the United States studying Social Change through Muggle and Wizarding Law.

"But..." Harry stammered in shock, "I was hoping you would both come up for guest visits for my program!"

"Harry." Hermione tried not to sound as frustrated as she felt. "I'm sorry you are disappointed. But, this a great opportunity for both of us. Straight out Defense work was always _your_ focus. The Exchange is going to give Ron and I a chance to really work on areas that are important to us. You know, as individuals."

"I know. It's just that, well, I'm so used to having you both there..."

"Harry, you need a chance to stand on your own as well. It's only six months, and I think the independence will really be good for all of us."

"I know, Hermione, you are right as always." He rolled is eyes in a somewhat tepid effort at lightening the mood. "Besides, you'll be in touch, right? Letters, Floo calls, it will just be like when you were off at Hogwarts, like nothing changed!"

Hermione and Ron's eyes met across the table. This had seemed like a good idea when they had planned it out last week, but telling Harry was proving to be harder than anticipated.

Ron broke the awkward silence. "Uh, mate, see...here is the thing. We've, er, well that is to say, Hermione and I talked and..."

"We aren't going to be in contact with anyone from home except for quick notes to our parents," Hermione cut in, blurting the news out as quickly as she could, as though is was a Muggle plaster that needed to be removed.

"It's not personal, or anything, Harry." Ron tried to soften it a bit in the face of Harry's shocked expression. "It's just...this is a chance for us to, you know, succeed on our own., see how we do without all the history that follows us around the Ministry."

Harry sighed and looked down. "Well, I can definitely understand the attraction of that. Hell, now I'm a little jealous, even. You know I'll miss you both, right?"

"Of course, Harry," Hermione laid a hand on his arm. "We'll miss you and everyone else terribly, too."

"Oh, stop looking at me like that, Hermione," Harry laughed. "I'll survive without you, I'm sure. You're right, it will do me good to work on my program on my own as well. And, you'll be sure to dominate your course, I'm sure. As for Mr. Free Agent over there," Ron pulled a face at him for that, "well, he'll be so strategic by the time he gets back that everyone will want him on Auror missions but nobody will be willing to play chess with him ever again!"

Later that evening, Ron and Hermione curled up on the sofa in his flat, watching the firelight in darkness.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Er, I've been thinking."

"That's new."

"Oh, stop. I mean, about The Exchange. About being on our own."

"What about it?"

"I'm wondering if maybe we should, er, maybe consider not writing each other as well."

There was a loud pop and hiss from the fire, and then, silence.

"Ron?"

"Are you breaking up with me?" As calm as he tried to remain, his voice shattered with hurt. He suddenly felt out of breath, as if he had run up a long staircase.

"No! No, Ron, I don't want to end this...just, you know, maybe a pause, like we could be on hold until we get back." She reached for him, but he pulled away, shaking and wide-eyed.

"You want to be with someone else, someone better?"

"No, oh, calm down! This is coming out all wrong, Ron. God, I love you, it's just, I worry sometimes, you know? I see these beautiful girls, all trying to catch your eye when we are out. And, you know, I am so afraid that someday you'll look back and resent me for keeping you away from that while we are young."

"What, you think I want to be like bloody Corner, out chatting up any girl who'll speak to him? Is this about that stupid 'free agent' thing? Harry and his stupid jokes. Look, Hermione, that was years ago, and you _know_I was only saying that to convince myself that I hadn't actually buggered up the chance to actually be with you!"

"No, it isn't that, so much." She paused and gave a small smile. "Well, maybe a _little._I mean, honestly, Ron, it doesn't escape me that the last time you considered yourself 'free' you chose to be with a girl very different to me."

"I didn't 'choose' anything, Hermione! I mean, she was pretty and wanted me, and at the time I thought that was all that mattered. She grabbed me and kissed me, and then, she was just there all the time and it was kind of like I had a girlfriend by default."

"You could say the same thing about me, Ron." Hermione held up her hand to silence his protest. "I mean, I grabbed you and kissed you and then we were just there, together all the time."

"It's not the same at all! I loved you for _years,_ Hermione! I wanted you so much it _hurt_! It was not some accidental thing!"

"I know, Ron, I just...I want to give you the chance to really stand on your own, and to come back and actually get to choose me. Or, not. If you are going to decide that I'm not what you want, then I just think it will be easier on me if it comes after we've already had time apart."

"You're going to chuck me, aren't you?"

"Don't be silly, I've loved you since I was a little girl."

"Just seems to me more likely that you'll be the one who's going to move on."

"I don't want either one of us to _move on,_Ron. I love you. I can't imagine my future without you. I just want us to be able to go forward together absolutely confident that it's what we choose, eyes wide open."

Ron sighed. "I know you're right, and this is probably a good thing, but-"

"But it feels lousy now?"

He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, Ron." Her tears had been flowing for a while, but now Hermione was actually sobbing. "For me, too."

During the first few months, the days passed faster than either imagined. The program was so intensive that the nights seemed barely long enough for sleep. But, eventually, both Ron and Hermione settled in to the routine of hard work and new friends, most of whom had only a passing knowledge of the recent war in Britain.

Ron's group was one of the most diverse in The Exchange, with representatives from business, sport, and government. Days full of scenario playing and the study of theory were usually followed by long evenings of beer and competitive bar games. They usually traveled in a pack, leaving their local hangout in the wee hours. Kelly Walker, the youngest coach in the history of Canadian professional Quidditch, was staying in the same building as Ron, and they often headed home together. She was a tiny little thing with a seemingly limitless supply of energy and chatter, and their walks home were filled with a non-stop stream of teasing and general merriment. But, tonight she had mentioned the war. Her casual comment had set Ron's mind spinning to that time, and he was lost in thoughts of his friends and family.

"I heard they suspended Quidditch for a whole year!"

Ron nodded awkwardly at the outburst.

"Er, yeah. Well. That was the least of it. I don't know if I told you, but, er, my brother was killed, and I had lots of friends..."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Ron. I should have realized that you'd probably have been in it and all. Your brother? Wow. You were in it more than most, then, I guess."

"You have _no_idea."

They walked on a bit further, Kelly's sleek and dark pixie bobbing along as she trotted to keep up with her much taller companion.

"So! Tomorrow is our first whole day off! What are we doing?"

"Well, _you_could always take the opportunity to go shopping, you know, maybe pick up some TimTams?"

"Why would I bother doing that, when I can just zip downstairs and eat yours?"

"I knew you were only using me for the biscuits. Anyway, I don't know, I was thinking of going to Wellington and checking out the old Maori war relics at that museum we heard about, but, in all honesty, I'll probably just loaf around and see if I can find someone for a game of chess."

"A museum? _Chess?_Weasley. You must be joking. It's a day off! We should go for a fly, have a mad party, something actually fun!"

Ron laughed and opened the door to his flat. Not surprisingly, Kelly pushed by him and headed straight for the biscuit barrel.

"You know, one of these days, I'll start hiding my snacks, and there where will you be?"

"I'll find them, you know, I have my ways."

"I'm sure you do." They munched on the biscuits in an easy silence, until Kelly spoke again.

"Hey, Ron?"

"Hey, what, did you finish them off already?"

"No, seriously. I was, er...well, I was wondering what the hell the hold up is."

"Hold up? I don't follow."

"Look, Ron, we've been dating for weeks now, and you still haven't kissed me. Why not?"

"Because I didn't know we were dating?" He blurted without thinking and then shrunk back in anticipation of what surely would be a well-earned hex. Instead, she surprised him with a shriek of laughter.

"Oh, that's rich, you clueless boy! We're together all the time, we go to all our meals together, I'm constantly down here stealing your cookies..."

"That _is_a bit of a liberty, now that you mention it."

Kelly sighed and shook her head. "Okay, look, I'm sorry if I assumed too much. I suppose I should just formally make it clear to you that an offer stands."

"An offer?"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, Weasley! I'm here! I'm interested! Do you or do you not find me attractive?"

"Well, sure, Kelly, you're very pretty, you know that. And, I always have a great time hanging out with you."

"So, what's the problem? You think I'm pretty, I'm certainly interested in you, despite your obvious deficiencies." At this he rolled his eyes, and she pushed on. "Are we going to give this a go, or not?"

Ron took a deep breath and took one of her small hands between his. He looked thoughtfully into her dancing hazel eyes. She was a pretty girl, she was fun, and openly wanted him.

He opened his mouth and answered with a confidence he hardly knew he had.

"Yes, yes, YEEEEEEES!"

"Sweet Merlin, Stephan. What are you so excited about?" Hermione laughed as she reached across the table for the salt shaker.

"The border dispute up in Inishowen turned up my way. Bloody excellent! This means the Liberation Act could well get enough votes for passage at the next Procedural!"

"That's wonderful, congratulations." Hermione smiled as she watched her friend devour the rest of his newspaper, completely unconscious of the admiring stares coming from the young women at the next table.

Stephan Hamill always _did_command attention. He was tall and broad, with wavy bronze hair and startling ice-blue eyes. But, far more alluring than his obvious physical beauty was an undeniable social charisma that pulled everyone he met into his orbit. While Stephan's main focus was on the boundary matters being settled throughout Northern Ireland - where the local Muggle and Wizarding populations had very different notions about their national allegiances - he was passionate about just about any issue that came his way. He frequently spoke at length about all interactions as being part of "The Struggle," and he always seemed to find an eager audience. The other members of the Law and Social Change program were entirely enthralled by his intelligence, fire and commitment. For her part, Hermione was less fawning than most of the other students, but she found herself admittedly fascinated by his company. They spent many an evening after class debating the finer points of Wizarding and Muggle law around the world and discussing the many ways that justice could be achieved in their home countries.

"Say, Hermione, let's head up to the flats, shall we? Big day tomorrow and all."

"Er, sure. What do you have planned? It's our day off, isn't it?" They left the group kitchen and headed up the long flight of stairs to the floor that housed the small student flats that the University had provided visiting scholars.

"The American Muggles are having a big march tomorrow. They're set to commemorate the Equal Protection rulings we studied last week. It's going to be amazing! It's going to be right there on the Mall! Do say you'll accompany me!" He stepped uncomfortably close to her as they reached her door.

"Huh." Hermione took a step back, and felt her cheeks take on an unaccountable flush. "I had, er, actually thought of relaxing a bit. You know, doing a little pleasure reading, or perhaps just taking in some of the sights around Washington. You know, a day off."

"Relax? The Struggle doesn't take a day off! You should come, Hermione!" His voice became very soft and deep as he stroked a single finger down her cheek. "It's going to be _electric._" Stephan's finger ran under her chin and he tilted her face up to his and moved closer...closer.

Hermione's lips parted and she reacted to his move with an assuredness that startled even her.

Ron Weasley had been back in London for less than twenty-four hours, and already he crawling out of his skin with madness. He and Hermione were set to have brunch the next day. A nice, civilized meeting at a proper hour to 'reconnect and catch up' after their long separation. Certainly nothing to be anxious about. He should just relax, enjoy the evening. It wasn't like he could make the time move any faster, anyway, right? Nonetheless, nine o'clock found Ron twice-showered, and sitting in his pajamas staring at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. He had to see her, had to know where they were now, how she felt, get all the cards on the table.

Oh, God. Maybe he should be hoping for time to stop instead of speed up.

Ron went back to pacing, until he was startled by a pounding at the door. He ran to answer, almost as if he knew who was there.

"Hermione?"

Her suitcase lay open on her bed, but she couldn't bring herself to unpack. How on earth was she supposed to hold it all in? Tomorrow at noon, she and Ron would be having this momentous talk, with everything hanging in the balance. She paced over to the window and stared out into the rainy evening. It wasn't even good rain. Not a drenching, sexy rain, but instead a horrible, bone-chilling drizzly affair that made her hair behave like a pot scrubber gone bad. It was all too much.

She didn't stop to think until she was already standing outside his door, her fist drumming against wood and glass. Why was she even here? What the hell was she going to say? She was at a loss until the door opened, and she was left staring into wide blue eyes. He barely had time to say her name before she blurted it out, the only two words that came to mind. The same two words she had said to Stephan Hamill, and, coincidentally, the same two words that Ron had said to Kelly Walker.

_"I can't."_

He looked confused. "You can't...come tomorrow?"

Damn it. Now she was crying. "No, I can't do this anymore!"

He stepped backwards involuntarily, clutching at his bare chest. "You can't be with me anymore?"

"NO!" She was hysterical now, almost screaming at him through her tears. "I can't be _without_you anymore!"

"Oh, thank God!" And, he pulled her to him, kissing whatever skin or hair or any part of her he could reach because she was there and she was Hermione and for some _insane_ reason she was there, really _there._They stumbled back in a flurry of arms and hands and tears and kisses. Kicking the door shut, they shed their clothes as they staggered towards the bedroom, sobbing to each other along the way.

_"I love you."_

"I need you."

"I missed you."

"Lord, I was so desperate for you that night!" Hermione laughed as they remembered.

"As if I wasn't as bad. I can't even tell you how it felt to see you there when I opened that door."

"Well, seeing as we didn't emerge from your flat for three days, I think it's safe to say we missed each other quite a bit!"

"It would have been longer than three days if we hadn't had to go to that blasted Welcome Back party at the Leaky."

"Mmmm. Actually, if it hadn't been for that party, we might be there still! Besides, it was so much fun to show up and announce that we were getting married! I thought Harry was going to pass out!"

"That was good. I don't think he thought I'd have it in me to ask you."

"Fat lot he knew. He's the one who had to call you for moral support the night he asked Ginny!"

"From the loo! On his mobile!" They laughed in near unison and burrowed into the warm cave of their bed.

They settled into a quiet sort of half-sleep, cushioned by the familiar soft comfort of the years.


	3. Chapter 3

**Quick Notes: **

**Thanks to all the readers and reviewers. Those who thought the story seemed familiar - you aren't losing it, this story was published on LiveJournal as part of the first CanonFest, and won a 2009 R/Hr Award for Kiss in a Fic. It made the rounds back then, but I haven't put it in an archive until now. **

**I'm still trying to figure out formatting here on . I apologize for the odd, run-on quality of the story here, in the original, there are some extra spaces between sections that make the story flow make more sense. I stuck some random underscores in this time, hopefully that will help with this chapter. And now...the conclusion!**

A sharp wail pierced the night, startling them both. Somehow Ron ended up on the floor with all of the blankets and one of the pillows.

"Ugh! Covers, please!" Hermione was left on the bed with nothing but her flannel nightdress to keep her warm. Ron laughed and tucked her back in.

"I'm off to the little tyrant for a bit. Don't hog the whole bed, now, because I _will_be back."

"Mmmmmmmmf." She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head in a desperate effort at falling back asleep. Her mind always had such a tendency to race in the wee hours, and it had become a bit of a problem in recent years. Her mother had blamed menopause, much to Hermione's horror.

The moon slanted through the sheer curtains at the window, and Hermione watched the shadows of the branches outside as they danced along the carpet in time to the soft lullaby Ron was singing in the next room. It was a quiet and primal comfort, and it sent her mind back across the years, remembering the bittersweet pride of seeing the children off to Hogwarts, the fear and uncertainty of Hugo's birth, the excitement of learning that Rose was on the way, and the pain of waiting half a year to share that joy with Ron.

She first noticed that something was different on the day they hung Molly's new Weasley clock. It was larger than the old one, with hands for spouses and grandchildren, and it had more locations listed on its face in order to allow for the fact that all of Molly's children now lived away from the Burrow. Fred's hand from the old clock was mounted off to the side with a little plaque that read, "In Our Hearts," which made Molly sniffle and George roll his eyes. As the clock was mounted and the various hands swung in to place, Hermione almost felt as if the whole room was spinning, and she needed to sit down quickly.

"What's wrong, love?" Ron whispered worriedly in her ear.

"Oh, I don't know, all the clock hands moving and all the magic from the spell must have made me a little dizzy, that's all."

"Well, you've been completely knackered lately, maybe you're coming down with something."

"Ron, I'm fine!"

"It would be an excuse for me to get you home and in to a nice toasty bed, now, wouldn't it?"

"I love the way you think."

Of course, she did have her suspicions. Hermione was nothing if not perceptive, after all. But, they had been trying for so long that she also had her own set of superstitions that would not be violated. She wouldn't discuss the matter with anyone until she talked to Ron, and she would not tell Ron until she had confirmation from a Healer. So, until her appointment, Hermione merely begged off Angelina's invitation to lunch at a sushi counter, and when Ginny looked at her funny for drinking pumpkin juice at the Leaky Cauldron after work, Hermione just smiled. Her appointment was Tuesday. She would know for sure soon enough.

That fateful afternoon, she glided in to their flat on a cloud of pure joy. Finally - finally! She couldn't wait to see the look in Ron's eyes when at last she could tell him that they would be having a baby! He would be home soon, she knew. Lured by the promise of a quiet night at home with his wife, Ron had sworn to be on time, home by half-five at the latest.

When the clock struck six, Hermione began to become irritated.

When the clock struck seven, Hermione bit back tears of rage.

When the clock struck eight, there was a clatter in the Floo. When Hermione turned to give Ron a piece of her mind, though, she was struck silent and wide eyed. Harry stood there in the living room, his robes singed and his face pale.

"They took him. We don't know where. I'll find him, Hermione, I _promise_."

When the clock struck nine, Hermione's eyes were dry, but her heart was full of terror and grief.

The search was on. Ron knew in his heart that it had to be. He had searched for enough missing Aurors himself to know that a lost man was never left behind. Still, the days were passing, they had to be. It was hard to know for sure though, locked as he was in this strange, windowless room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling; everything was stark white. He had a bed, a sink, a toilet. Light came from an unseen source, it was bright and even and never dimmed. Meals were delivered by an unseen person, at regular intervals, slid through a small slot in the wall that reminded him of the horrible cat flap on Harry's door back at the Dursleys. It was always the same thing: bread, an apple, and a glass of cold milk.

He waited every day for someone to enter the room, to beat him, to question him, to discuss terms for a ransom - anything. But no one ever came. It was just Ron. In a plain white room. In silence. Alone. And so, to fill the time, he talked. He talked for hours on end, about the Burrow, his siblings, about Harry and Hogwarts...but, most of all, he talked about his wife. He spoke about how they had met as children, how they had struggled together against all odds, their once prickly friendship exploding into a deep and abiding connection that could not be broken by time or space or maddening white rooms.

The days stretched in to weeks, and weeks then became months. Hermione was starting to look noticeably different, and even her work robes could not conceal the obvious.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell us?" Molly tried almost every Sunday.

"Thank you, no. I need to speak with Ron." And, the subject was closed for another week.

Harry always seemed so pale, so nervous around her. She knew he blamed himself for Ron's disappearance, she knew he considered every day he remained missing to be a personal failure. And while she didn't actually blame him, this was unlike previous periods of what she and Ron usually called "Harry Brood-a-thons." This time, Hermione was hurting too badly to try to talk her old friend out of his guilt. Eventually, his self-loathing boiled over as frustration.

"You need to talk to the family about this, Hermione. We want to help you! Besides, you aren't fooling anyone! We can all see that you're pr-"

"I am not talking to you about this until I talk to Ron!" She interrupted him with a shrill shout.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione! At this rate, we'll be putting the kid on the Hogwarts Express and you'll be expecting us to pretend he doesn't exist!"

Hermione slapped Harry with all her strength. The rest of the room fell silent.

"DON'T tell me how to live my life, Harry. If you want to help me so badly, why don't you just go find my FUCKING HUSBAND!"

Hermione stopped attending family gatherings after that. She went to work, went to her Healer, went home and waited for the news that wouldn't come. Harry confessed to her later that he had been seriously worried for her sanity.

Ron was quite sure that he was going insane. There was no way of knowing how long he'd been there in that blank room, staring at nothing, speaking steadily into the complete and utter silence. But, he was sure that whoever it was who had brought him here was trying to drive him mad. The meals still came regularly, always the same: bread, an apple, and a glass of cold milk.. There was no variation, no alteration. The plain white tray with its plain white dishes and plain tasting food. He never saw the faces of the people who brought the food, never heard another human voice. It was always just bread, an apple, and a glass of cold milk.

Until the day that it wasn't.

Everyone in the family tried, but it was George who finally managed to convince Hermione to come back to dinner. He seemed to understand the oppressiveness of the clan's need to "help," and offered her a kind smile without prying. She returned to the Burrow, but always sat quietly in the corner and never said anything beyond the usual family small talk, and certainly never said anything to Harry. Instead, she stared at him with haunted, desperate eyes, where her question was written more clearly than words could have expressed. His answer was equally silent, but also unmistakable. Nobody could find Ron. It was if he had vanished completely.

Six months after Ron's disappearance, the Burrow gathering was marked by the announcement of a pregnancy. It was nearly impossible for everyone to manage to congratulate Ginny while studiously avoiding any reference to Hermione's obvious condition, but somehow, they managed well enough.

Well enough, that is, until Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived, bearing a thick sheaf of parchment.

"Mrs. Weasley," Kingsley had never been so formal when speaking to Hermione. "We regret to inform you that the efforts of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to find your husband, Auror Ronald Weasley, have been without success. In accordance with the procedures of the department, the formal search process has now been suspended. I am here to assist you, madam, with form PW-49, which will classify you as a provisionary widow, qualified for full widow's benefits even though Auror Weasley will not be officially declared dead until he has been officially missing for 365 days, or on the first business day thereafter."

The room fell into a cold and bitter silence. All eyes were on Hermione as Kingsley slid a form and a quill across the table to her.

"Tell me, Minister Shacklebolt. Do you deliver paperwork to all Auror's families?" Her voice was detached and strange to her own ears.

"Actually, no." Kingsley shifted slightly and averted his eyes from her piercing gaze. "This is the responsibility of the Head of the Auror department. In this case, Auror Potter has refused to perform his duty. An official reprimand is pending."

"You can put whatever the hell you want in my file, Kingsley. I won't stop searching."

Hermione looked up and caught Harry's eyes for the first time in what felt like ages. "Thank you, Harry." He nodded and turned back to the fire.

The tray slid through the slot, and there it all was. Bread, an apple, a glass of cold milk, and a single red rose.

A single red rose.

Ron reached for the flower, As he held it in his hand, he saw it glow blue at the edges, and he felt a familiar pulling sensation in the center of his abdomen.

Kingsley was talking again, listing the Many Important Benefits Accorded to Provisionary Widows and the Considerable Gratitude of the Ministry for the Family's Sacrifice, when he was abruptly interrupted.

"Oh, stop it for two seconds, Minister! With all due respect, it is hardly necessary to torture us all with the small print!" Shocked faces turned to the source of this outburst. They had all been thinking it, but no one had expected _Percy_to be the one to actually say it.

"Well, she needs to do this, if only for the sake of the child!" Kingsley argued.

The group devolved into a mass of bickering. Only Hermione and Harry remained silent, Hermione sitting stock-still at the table, and Harry leaning against the mantle, facing the warm fire that Arthur had lit against the cold evening rain. Hermione stared forward blankly and then blinked hard, not believing what she was seeing.

"Ron?" She whispered as she rose from her seat, eyes fixed over the fireplace.

"Hermione, dear, are you alright?"

"Ron." She said it clearly now, and her eyes were wide. It couldn't be, but, yes, it was.

Ron's hand on the clock had moved from "Lost" to "Traveling," and was now slowly grinding to a stop at "The Burrow."

"Ron, Ron!" She was shouting now, and those who had followed her gaze were shouting, too, pointing to the clock, calling out his name. She barely heard them as she flung open the door and ran out into the wind and rain. She was running and screaming and then crying and tumbling into the wet grass, wrapped in her husband's arms.

They entered a jubilant Burrow, and Ron spoke the first words he'd spoken to his family in months.

"Everyone, Hermione and I are going to have a baby!"

Months later, they would learn that Xerxes Panatoff, the last heir of an old pureblood family, had been "collecting minds" for years - capturing young men and isolating them for months at a time under the mad belief that he could harness the power of their youth and virility for himself as the victims withered away. Panatoff's wife, for decades kept captive herself and forced to keep the prisoners alive and "productive," had become enchanted by Ron's monologues in his cell. She had finally hatched a plan for his escape. She managed to make a portkey out of a single rose, which she placed on that final meal tray. The flower had been so out of place that he was certain to touch it, and thus take himself home.

All very interesting. But not nearly as captivating for the Weasley family as the arrival of a beautiful little girl with sparse ruddy curls and a cupid's bow mouth. Ron insisted on her name, in honor of the way he found his way home.

"Rose is the perfect name," Hermione said. "I feel like I owe my life to that rose."

"You can't know how much I missed you, love." He whispered to Hermione as they watched their daughter sleep.

"I think I have an idea."

Hermione rolled over when she heard the bedroom door whisk shut.

"Is he asleep, then?"

"Yeah, should be down for the night now." Ron climbed under the covers and slipped his arms around Hermione's waist. He smiled at the bare skin he found there, and realized that it actually _had_been her nightgown he'd seen tossed over the end of the bed.

"Missed me, I see?"

"Always."


End file.
